


Ghost On the Throne

by Elise_Madrid



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2813198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Madrid/pseuds/Elise_Madrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everything lasts forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost On the Throne

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the book of the same name, written by James Romm

He scanned the horizon and tried to remember how he had come to be at this place. His last remembrances were of fever and pain and a bone-deep loss that had set his soul to howling. The fever and pain were now gone, and though the loss was still there, it was muted, insubstantial. Why that should be, he could not guess.

He slowly looked in all directions. Desert surrounded him, but the pyramid of Pepi I loomed large in the west, and he knew himself to be at the outskirts of Memphis.

He rubbed his forehead and tried to remember. At first, there was only more pain, and then, just like that, memories flickered into life. He had been in Babylon, sick onto death. His men had surrounded his bed, the sycophants of the court kneeling behind them. All had been there, save one.

As more memories rushed in, he doubled over and wrapped his arms around his body. He gasped in air as he tried to stem the agony of remembered loss.

Hephaestion, gone a season, his death had almost been his own. How could he have forgotten that? How could he have forgotten the agony of his grief, a grief so deep, so unending, that he had often wished for his own demise.

After long minutes he finally straightened. He had dealt with his heartache as best as he could, and had got on with living. But life had not been as strong in him, anymore, and not long after that he, too, had sickened.

Then how had he come to be here? Surely, this must be a dream of his fevered mind. So be it, he would play along with what his mind had conjured. Taking in his surroundings once again, he spied a funeral cart. Curious, he made his way over.

It stood alone, unhitched. It was about twelve by eighteen feet with a barrel-vaulted roof that was covered in a gold plate which overlapped like shingles. At each corner stood Nike, also covered in gold. At the peak, stood an enormous golden olive wreath.

Columns supported the roof, bridged by a meshwork of golden ropes. Four panels displayed the military might of its occupant. At the rear wall of the chamber, a doorway opened, with golden lions guarding the entry. He gazed at it in wonder. Who had earned such a magnificent carriage?

“Do you not know, Alexander?”

He didn’t turn at the sound of a voice, afraid to, afraid that, once he did, he would waken and all would disappear. Instead, he closed his eyes and wished that this dream might never end.

“It is not a dream.”

Was his mind working against itself? Or was waking such an important thing? With shaking limbs, he turned and opened his eyes. The man who had haunted his dreams for so long stood not ten paces away.

“Hephaestion?”

Hephaestion smiled and then walked over to stand in front of him. “Who else would be here to attend you on your journey to the underworld?”

Alexander took in the beloved features, his hand rising without thought to touch Hephaestion’s cheek. The remembered feel of him brought tears to Alexander’s eye. After a moment, those same eyes narrowed as his hand dropped. “You are saying that I’m dead?”

Hephaestion nodded toward the carriage. “Who else could deserve such as this?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Alexander smiled then, finally at ease with whoever, or whatever, this was. “You were ever the one to dampen my enthusiasm.”

“I could add, with limited results.”

“Still, you were the only one who tried.” He looked back at the funeral cart. “But why has my body been brought to Memphis? I wished to be buried in the temple of Zeus Ammon at Siwah.”

“It has been two years since your death, and they have fought over it for all this time. Its thief has decreed it would be buried here.”

Alexander turned his attention to the horses and men who congregated nearby. “Those are Ptolemy’s men.”

“Yes, he has made Egypt his own.”

“He was ever the clever one. And the rest?” Alexander, his voice filled with anger, turned toward Hephaestion. “What of Perdiccas? It was to him that I passed my ring.”

“Fighting for his life. Did you truly believe that any of your generals would quietly step aside and allow another to take power?”

“I hoped that, as they gave to me in life, their loyalty would continue past my death and they would abide by my wishes.” He thought a moment. “And the rest? Roxane was with child. What of them?”

“There is a child, a son. He is with Perdiccas.”

“Can I see him?”

“That is not within my power to grant. I am sorry, Alexander.”

Alexander looked again at the funeral cart. He studied it for several minutes before turning away with a shake of his head. “So this is what my empire has come to. My men fight over it as vultures do the dead.”

“Nothing lasts forever.”

“Forever?” Alexander gave a harsh laugh. “I am no fool. I never imagined that it would. But two years? Were all my battles, all my victories, worth nothing? For so small a gain, I could just as well have stayed in Pella.”

“No, Alexander.” Hephaestion took his hand. “What you did will always be remembered. Of that I am sure.”

“How can you be, when already it is being torn apart?”

“Because of what awaits us. The Gods have not forgotten you, Alexander.” He lightly touched Alexander’s forehead, as if to brush away the lines of worry there. “It is they who have sent me to lead the way forward. But first, I think,” he leaned over and placed a kiss on Alexander’s lips. “Something pleasant to see us off.”

Alexander didn’t remember closing his eyes, yet at Hephaestion's kiss darkness surrounded him. Hephaestion's words drifted through that darkness, as if the man was slowly moving away.

~~~~~

“No!” Alexander bolted upright. He was back in his bed. It had been a dream after all. He lowered his head into his hands, fighting tears.

“What’s the matter?”

His eyes jerked open at the touch on his shoulder, and he turned to look at who it was who shared his bed.

Hephaestion lie next to him. But not the battle-scarred Hephaestion of their later years. This man was from before Babylon, perhaps even before Alexander had become king. Or even regent. He looked around. Yes, they were in his room in the palace at Pella.

“Are you all right?” Hephaestion sat up. The cover slid from his body, puddling around his hips.

Alexander could no more not reach for the man than he could stop breathing. He didn’t care if this was a dream or not. He wrapped his arms around Hephaestion’s neck and rolled them over as one. Once on top, he sat up and straddled Hephaestion's hips.

The unmarred body below him was a temptation he could not resist. He ran his hands down from Hephaestion's shoulders and over his chest, then spread his fingers wide to follow the contours of Hephaestion's torso. He passed the narrow waist, continuing down until he came to his groin. He teased at the organ lifting from its dark nest, then, leaving off, placed his hands on either side of Hephaestion’s shoulders.

He eased himself down so that their bodies fit together as hand to a glove and began to thrust his hips. Slowly at first, then faster as longing built. He felt Hephaestion's hands settle on his ass, his lover adding his strength to his, intensifying the friction that fueled their lust.

No, not lust. Never lust. From the beginning, he and Hephaestion were more than that to each other. Alexander had wondered at their mutual allure. Wondered, but never fought. Just as he couldn’t fight the drive to completion that mastered him now. He quickened his thrusts even more, but, almost there, he was stopped by Hephaestion's hands moving to his sides and pushing their bodies apart.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked.

Hephaestion turned his head and looked away. “I want more than this.”

“What are you talking about?”

There was no reply at first, but Alexander noted how Hephaestion's eyes closed once before his lover finally looked his way.

“I wish us to return to what...to what we had before.”

Alexander straightened, though he did not remove himself from his perch atop Hephaestion's body. “That would not be considered—”

“I don’t care. It is what I wish.” He gazed at Alexander, pleading with his eyes as well as his words. “Have you not missed it? Am I the only one who feels the loss? If that is so, you must tell me now.”

“What will you do if you are?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps I will return home.”

Alexander had given it little thought when they had stopped being _erastes_ and _eromenos_ to each other. If, in the privacy of their chambers, they had followed their own path, each being both and neither, none had been the wiser. But as they had come into manhood, they had left off the ways of their youth.

But neither had been able to give the other up completely. Instead, they had pretended that what they did now did not count. If they touched, if they were audience to each other’s passion, it meant nothing.

He looked down at his friend. Hephaestion had always been the more passionate when it came to this part of their lives. But that didn’t mean that it meant less to him. He could have done without that particular act if that was what was expected of them. But he could not do without Hephaestion.

Without a word, he moved back, pushing Hephaestion's legs apart as he did so. Once on his knees, he settled between them. He leaned forward to dip his fingers in the oil of the small lamp that flickered next to the bed.

Hephaestion smiled, the smile that had undone Alexander so many years before, and spread his legs wider.

Carefully, Alexander pushed his oil-laden fingers into Hephaestion's body. His lover hissed in delight and raised his hips. It didn’t take long for the orifice to loosen, though Alexander could feel the pull of muscles, as if it longed for more. Pulling his fingers free, he positioned his cock at the opening. “Are you ready?”

His eyes closed, his breath coming in sharp gasps, Hephaestion answered with a sharp nod.

Alexander pushed forward, and buried himself to the hilt. Hephaestion cried out as he was filled, though it wasn’t a cry of pain. More that of triumph, of desire met.

They would make love through the night, all thoughts of sleep chased away. In the morning, they returned to their lives, the same, yet changed forever.

~~~~~

Alexander opened his eyes to Hephaestion's smile. But it was the Hephaestion who had followed him to the ends of the earth.

“Do you remember that night?” Hephaestion asked.

“I don’t know how I could have ever forgotten it. I had ever loved you, but that night, ah, that night, I came to know who held the other half of my soul.”

“From that day forth, there were no questions for me, no doubts. However the path of our lives, whatever we did, I knew that, in the way that most mattered, you would always be mine.”

“And now?”

“And now we have forever.”

“Forever?” Alexander tilted his head, the word conveying doubt, yet also dawning joy.

Hephaestion turned to look before them, and then he took Alexander’s hand in his and led him through the gates of Elysium.


End file.
